Page 72 of Until Then

Me: *thumbs down emoji*

Twenty seconds is all it takes for my brother to respond.

Rees: You’ve got this, No. I know it takes some adjusting, but you’ve got this.

Rees: Have you told Hayley anything?

Me: No.

Rees: You know what I think.

Me: Yeah, I know. It’s not exactly a fun chat.

Rees: But an important one. Need a Jude video call?

I chuckle.

Me: Always.

TWENTY-ONE

Noah

Hayley’s hand in mine soothes the heaviest thoughts. The idea she’s here, laughing with me, our friends, leaning againstmyshoulder, is a new dream.

Across from us, Briar and Tyrell barely take their hands off each other. A few other guys from the studio sit by Carter. My friend can’t stop trying to engage Greer with questions about her pro-bono work at her law firm. He’s hit on her more than once. Greer is savvy. No mistake, if Carter wants an in with a woman like her, he’ll need to get creative.

Or he’ll fall on his face.

Greer doesn’t seem the type to mess around.

“I still can’t believe you got Noah to sign an NDA.” Briar sips from her wine glass, drawing Greer’s attention.

Hayley huffs. “I still can’t believe you did it behind my back!”

Greer pops a shoulder. “I was looking out for my girl.”

I let my arm fall around Hayley’s shoulders. “I didn’t mind.”

Briar clicks her tongue. “Noah’s never done something like that, Haze. Just saying.”

Hayley gives me a knowing look, then kisses the hinge of my jaw. “Well, I still don’t like it, but the willingness is hot.”

Carter snaps his finger. “Just so you know, Hayley, after yesterday we are officially friends with benefits.”

“Um, what?”

“Yeah, what?” I glare at my idiot of a friend.

“Relax, Noah-Bear. Not in that way.” Carter levels Hayley in his gaze. “I mean I plan to cash in on the benefit of practicing like we did for the kids yesterday. It got me thinking. I’m the one who almost breaks his neck jumping off moving horses. A few extra hours wouldn’t hurt to help keep me, you know, alive.”

Hayley laughs and lets her head fall to my shoulder. “You’re welcome to practice as much as you want.”

My fingertips trail along her arm, tracing the freckles on her shoulder. She fits here. Next to me. I fit with her. In the stalls. Under the stars.

There’s a piece of me that believed something so perfect couldn’t truly exist.

The restaurant owner is a close friend of Tyrell’s. Like Alan in my dive diner, he’s accustomed to ushering faces from the show through a back entrance to avoid a lot of fanfare.

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